“Gale?”
How, in the name of the Elders, did he get here?
The world slowly gains contours. The mirror room, roughly hewn into the bedrock, is the same, minus the creepy mist. The mirror still stands, dark and ominous, in its center.
Was this all just a nightmare? Quite a vivid one, as my scar still bears the mark of Aeidas’s icy fingers.
“What in the hell pits of Atos are you doing here? Were you sleepwalking? Or someone took you here? Was it the wretched prince?”
“Sleepwalking…yes.” A plausible explanation. “And you? What are you doing here?” I ask, rubbing my temples.
“I wanted to see more of the infamous Unseelie palace.” He brushes off my question and helps me up. There’s more to this than just curiosity, but I’m too dazzled to ask. Gale wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I’m grateful for the warmth.
“What happened, Talysse?” he insists softly. “Who showed you the Room of Reflections?”
“How do you know what it is called?”
He ignores my question, and his steps are rushed as he leads me out of this cursed place. “Let’s take you back to your room, Talysse; it is not safe for you here.”
“But it is safe for you?” I arch a brow while letting myself be dragged along the dusty passageways.
“It takes more than an old Unseelie trinket to harm me.” He shrugs, and suddenly, there’s something to him: a fleeting shadow greater than his mortal frame, a murmur of forbidden spells.
We’ve reached the familiar corridor of my chamber, and a couple of guards walk by, throwing us a look.
“Can I come in, Talysse?” He leans on the doorframe and looks down at me intensely. The guards in unmarked black armor, Shadowblades, I remind myself, stand there, watching us. “We need to speak,” he insists. With a tired nod, I relent. Well, sleep is out of the question anyway.
He whistles when looking around my chamber in awe. “I can see that someone is clearly favored here! My room looks like a barn compared to this!”
“Why do you want to talk about, Gale?” I fill two glasses with some of the amber liquid from the decanter next to the fireplace.
He settles in the soft chair, ankle over his knee. He’s wearing only a loose linen shirt and pants, his unruly curls tucked behind his shoulder, his enchanted golden earrings shimmering in the twilight. There’s an odd glow to his eyes that makes me wonder once again why he was wandering the Unseelie halls alone.
Throwing myself on the bed, I cross my arms over my chest. Still wearing the scandalous nightgown, I am feeling a bit uncomfortable.
“Listen, Talysse, just want to tell you that you can rely on me in the next trials,” he says softly, sips on the fiery drink, and grimaces. “Elders, this is some strong shit.”
“You have quite a low opinion of someone who had to wrangle street rats the size of a pig for a piece of bread, Gale.” His cryptic talking and the whole aura of mystery around him started frightening me. I take a generous sip and nearly spit it on the floor. He was right; this is stronger than anticipated. “You know how these trials work. Alliances are temporary. There could be only one winner. Soon or later, we’ll have to slaughter each other.”
It’s a ridiculous concept while we sip our drinks in the light of the dying fire. But we both know it’s true.
“Or not,” he says, pushing himself up from the chair and placing his palms on both sides of my thighs, leaning on the bed. The warmth of his closeness washes over me. “Trust me, Talysse.” His voice is soft now, and his amber eyes locked with mine. “Things…are about to happen. You better be ready. I want you to pick the right side. Remain loyal to your nature,” he whispers in my ear, and I’m suddenly afraid. Alone with another contestant, who’s acting mad. Maybe he’ll try to take the flint away from me?
“What in the name of Atos are you talking about, Gale?” I ask, cautiously pulling away.
“There are things I cannot talk about among these walls, Talysse.” Noticing my uneasiness, he backs up and starts pacing the room.
“Look, if this is your way of warning me that the Trials are botched and that—”
His laughter spills in the night, disturbing as a pot dropped in the silent kitchen.
“No, Talysse, no. The Trials are not botched. The stronger one will prevail,” he adds darkly. “Just…just stay alert and choose wisely.” He drags a palm over his face and halts, hesitating as if debating whether he should reveal more. Then he turns on his heel and heads to the door. “The most dangerous thing in these Trials is that prince of yours,” he hisses, his hand on the doorknob, and I don’t like the sound of yours. “Stay away from him, and you’ll be safe.”
Elders.
When I look up, he’s gone.
*
